


Black Suit

by WritingforTheAvengers



Category: Avengers, MCU, Marvel, T'Challa - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Smut, Song fic, black suit by super junior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 17:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingforTheAvengers/pseuds/WritingforTheAvengers
Summary: A black suit to steal your heart





	Black Suit

You wiped the sweat and blood from your forehead and looked at Tony with a great smile on your face. You were exhausted, and you hadn’t done this in quite a while, but when he called to ask for your help with taking down some idiots, you just couldn’t refuse. It was your cup of tea, it got you going with your boring, diplomatic life of being a Prime Minister from somewhere hidden in the world.

“I hope you didn’t get too hurt,” Tony’s iron suit slowly peeled off and he put a gentle hand on your shoulder, “the parliament wouldn’t be very happy to see you like that.”

“Yeah,” you panted and nodded your head, “but it’s nothing that Dr. Cho cannot fix, I suppose,” you shrugged and smiled widely again. You unzipped the top of your black combat suit just a little to get more air to freshen yourself up. “By the way, who’s the new asset?” You looked at the guy in the black, cat-like, suit. “I don’t think I’ve seen him before around here. Does he have a thing for cats?”

“T’Challa!” Tony called, and the man turned around, took off his head gear and walked towards you two. Your first impression of him was that he was really handsome, he looked like a gentleman. “This is (Y/N), an asset to the team. (Y/N), this is King T’Challa, he’s a member of the Avengers now.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said in a rough English as he reached out his hand to hold yours. His grip was tight, and when you lifted your hand to look at him, you could feel how his eyes pierced all the way to your core. For eternal minutes, only the two of you existed, but you released your hand and the magic ended. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “I just happen to have a very common face,” you waved your hand in a careless manner. “It’s very nice to meet you too, though,” you pursed your lips and smiled. “Tony, dear, I’m gonna need a ride back home, do you mind?”

“Weren’t you gonna go with us to Dr. Cho’s?”

“Can’t do,” your mouth quirked almost out of instinct. “I have a speech to give in three days in Vienna, and I need to be there not jet lagged—nice to meet you T’Challa,” you turned to him and reached out for his hand. “I hope to see you around,” you smiled and turned around. You could’ve sworn that T’Challa tried to say something, but you were too far away to notice, or care.

* * *

 

Three days later, in Vienna, you were taking the steps to the podium and you couldn’t recall the last time you felt this nervous. Standing in front of cameras to give speeches was one thing, and it was easy, since you had practiced them before and you were only with the camera teams and your assistants in one room. Now you were surrounded by a sea of people that were actually willing and expecting to hear you speak.

You stood before the podium and fixed the microphone, this only bought you a couple more seconds of hyping yourself from the inside.

“Your Majesties, your Royal Highnesses, fellow Prime Ministers, Presidents, UN Secretary General, President of the General Assembly and distinguished guests,” you cleared your throat. “Today, I’m here to address a matter of utmost importance that has been discussed all over the globe and still does not seem to have a real impact in our societies. I am the Prime Minister of my country,” you placed a hand on your chest and towed with your white tie out of pure anxiety, “and before that I was a congresswoman, but above all those accomplishments I am the oldest child of a single mother,” you said sternly. “My father passed away when I was 5, my youngest sister was on the way and my middle sister was only 2; nevertheless, my mom still managed to raise us all up being the strong women that we are today,” you smiled gently. “When I was 8, my mom was finally able to find a job outside the house and the first thing she did was bringing home a baseball bat so we could defend ourselves in, God forbid, a case of emergency. The three of us learnt how to defend ourselves thanks to free martial arts classes during summer in our neighborhood; we learned how to cook, how to sew, how to take care of the garden that we had at home and basic survival stuff. We learnt the sense of financial responsibility from a very early age because we didn’t have a lot of money while growing up. So when I went to college I was able to survive though being poor and not having enough. But I made it through and then I helped my mom to pay my middle sister’s education, and she helped my mom with the youngest one’s education. Don’t be fooled by my words though, this is not for you to feel pity for me. Because this story—my story happens all over the world. But you know what I realized?” You paused to look at the audience. “That my mom gave me the tools to make me empowered,” you closed your hand in a fist. “In my first period as a congresswoman, my fellow female colleagues and I realized that we were only a few of us and that it didn’t matter if we didn’t see eye to eye in some topics, but we all wanted to do something for the women in our country,” you paused again to get some air. You glanced at the glass and took a short sip from it. “Do you know the first thing we did? We reached out to our female voters and we started financing self-defense programs, cooking classes, home improvement workshops, and everything that we thought that could be of use for them,” you could feel their eyes scrutinizing you and every move you made. “All of this was done during my first period, this means in four years, and you know what happened in the next four years? They didn’t need us anymore,” you smiled lightly. “They were able to finance their own things now. These women got together in their own communities to hire a contractor company and improve their houses. They took the proposal to the city’s housing committee and it got accepted and they were largely financed, especially those who couldn’t pay much. Now that I am the Prime Minister, I am able to get to more and more people involved in these programs and the results are a dream. We have lowered the levels of female victimization; women in the street feel more confident and are strong enough to defend themselves from harassers and muggers; housing levels have raised as well thanks to the work of the women in their communities, but if you don’t believe me, just take a look at the statistics in the booklets presented to you,” you stopped to look at some people that were already going through the booklet and nodded in agreement. “We even lowered the debts that women have thanks to the financial education programs that they managed on their own,” you took another sip from your glass. “We need to begin to understand that empowering women is not only making them feel good about themselves, it is giving them the tools to thrive and survive in a world that sometimes is aggressive and cruel towards them. My mom did it with my sisters and me unknowingly, and look at where I am today; I am talking to fellow Prime Ministers, royalty members and the heads of the United Nations. If you care about statistics, I urge you to give your women a chance to be the change you want to see in your society, the results are there. This works,” you stated firmly. “Thank you very much,” you nodded and smiled lightly, only to hear the audience burst into an unexpectedly loud round of applause.

On your way back to your seat, you were greeted by people you had never seen in your life. Though you had been to different meetings and conferences, people tend to change a lot, but you noticed one person that was in the seat next to yours. The newest member of the Avengers was there, cheering on you and ready to shake your hand.

“It was very moving—your story, your experience, your country’s experience, everything,” he said as he kept a firm grip on your hand. It was just like the first time you saw him, only the two of you in an empty room. He helped you to your seat and spoke once again, but it was hard to hear him amidst the noise, and when he noticed, he rolled his chair near to you and spoke to your ear. “I was not expecting to see you, but you did something about coming to Vienna…” though it was noting of flirty connotation, his deep voice right in your ear and his breath against your skin was a multisensory experience that was out of this world.

“Yes,” you replied, “but it’s me who didn’t expect to see you here—how did you—” you stopped suddenly and chuckled—“you’re that King T’Challa? Oh my god, we need to talk afterwards,” you leaned back on your seat and smiled at him.

During the rest of the conference, you couldn’t help but to think about T’Challa; he seemed so calm and collected… something you were trying really hard to do. Seeing T’Challa in a formal suit was dangerous for the hormones, especially for yours. Men in black suits were your doom. You played with the hem of your blazer and counted the minutes for the presentation to be over; you were in desperate need of a glass of alcohol and you wouldn’t get it anywhere in the UN’s headquarters.

You rushed from the conference room once it ended, and didn’t even hear T’Challa calling you from behind. You just couldn’t stand being around him; it was just too much to handle. You guard escorted you to your car and you headed off to your hotel. Your phone vibrated on your pocket and it was a number you didn’t know.

“Hello?” You hesitatingly answered.

“ _You rushed out and I didn’t even get to ask you your number,_ ” it was T’Challa’s voice on the other side of the line, “ _so I had to trick Tony into thinking this was an emergency to give it to me. Where are you going?_ ”

“I’m a bit tired,” you sighed. “Besides I need to get ready for tonight’s dinner. Not really my cup of tea, but it would be weird if I didn’t go. What about you? Are you going? I would be kinda mad if you didn’t, though—by the way, I was just wondering, how should I call you? Since we already know each other from a different context, is it still your majesty or just T’Challa?”

“ _T’Challa is just fine_ ,” he chuckled. “ _I was planning to not go, but since you’ve asked me so kindly I will go—do you wanna have a drink later?” He rushed to ask. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood to talk only about politics tonight,_ ” you heard him sigh heavily. “ _I think I want to relax, have a drink and… yes, just about that._ ”

“So I’ll see you there then? Do you know if we’re seated together or something?—Well, I’m sure we can arrange that. I’ll head to my hotel and get ready, you’d better be there at the dinner, T’Challa, or else I’m gonna find you and kill you,” you laughed heartedly. “Bye…!” You shook your head and immediately saved up his number. You didn’t want to miss another chance to talk to that guy, and since you had his number now, you could arrange meetings in the name of diplomacy; always in the name of diplomacy.

The dinner party afterwards was still a few hours away, and since you hadn’t really slept much the night before, you dozed off the minute you hit the pillow. Four hours later, and feeling finally well-rested, your team came through the door with dresses and whatnots to make you look pretty. Among the many dressing options you were given, there was a pitch black dress that caught your attention from the second you laid your eyes on it. You slid under it, only to find it extremely fitting and flattering. And you thanked the gods for having a dress with a slit on one side.

Your make up was simple, and your hair was adorned with golden details that matched the rest of your accessories. Before stepping out, you needed to give yourself one last look in the mirror. You knew you were pretty; it took you a while to realize that, but you felt mesmerized by your own reflection. You just hoped to cause that same reaction in one certain king.

You got to the headquarters again, welcomed by the paparazzi and the official photographers to record the event from beginning to end. You were even asked some questions about your speech earlier, your advocacy to fight for equal rights for women, and if you were willing to help other authorities if they ever asked for your help in these topics. You politely excused yourself from the press as you were taken inside the room to mingle with the other attendees.

As soon as you entered the room, a hand grabbed yours. You glanced that way and found T’Challa smiling cunningly as he conducted you to what it seemed to be his table. To say he looked glorious, was an understatement. He was obviously wearing a custom-made black suit with a tie that was as dark as the night. You were completely taken aback, since you thought he’d wear something more traditional to his customs, and then you realized he could rock whatever suit he wore—even a potato sack.

“You look nice,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t hear you above the noise.

“Thanks,” he replied with a satisfied smile on his plump lips. “So do you,” you chuckled and looked away.

There was a card with your name on it next to his card, and you were sure that was not a coincidence and that he must’ve had something to do with it. You couldn’t fight though, being close to him was something you’d been wanting all day long, even when it was you who escaped in the first place.

You did the usual politics talk with the rest of the people in the table, sharing each other’s experiences on the process of being head of government and all that jazz. You were good at it, or so you liked to think, and since you noticed how T’Challa didn’t take his eyes off of you, you guessed you were going in the right direction.

Out of a sudden, you felt a warm hand on your bare knee and you couldn’t help but to flinch. You blamed it on the cold drink you were offered earlier at the cocktail, but you knew damn right you were far from getting cold, and the hand that roamed up your thigh was the one to put the actual blame on. You grabbed his wrist before he stepped into dangerous areas. You excused yourself and headed to the bathroom with your bag tightly close to you.

You sneaked inside and took out your phone to text T’Challa.

“ _Have you lost your goddamn mind? If you wanted to do that we could’ve just waited after the drink I was conveniently going to offer you at my hotel. Now I might not invite you at all_.”

As soon as you opened the door, you were pushed back inside by T’Challa himself. He locked the door and it was finally the two of you. The suddenness of his kiss took your breath away, but you were worried about other things at that time. You held on to his shoulders and rolled your body against his. You had to thank your team for the barely noticeable make up and a dress that was comfortable enough for grinding against a hot dude.

His hands were on the sides of your face, but one of them slowly roamed down your neck and gently wrapped around it. You panted and pushed yourself away from him, and since his hand was still there, you couldn’t help but you held on to his wrist. You wanted him, and a quick one inside a bathroom would not make for it. You breathed heavily and let yourself free from his dangerous hands.

“Wanna hang out later?” You smacked your lips. “I have booze in my room and I’m most certainly free tonight after this.”

“I think we can escape the booze and just get straight to business,” he replied in a nonchalant voice.

“I guess we can,” you nodded, “but I do wanna get to know you a bit better,” you shrugged and headed to the door. “We do it my way or you bet your fine ass we don’t do it at all,” you smiled wickedly as you unlocked the door. “You might be a very good looking man,” you admitted, “but when it comes to this, I like things my way. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Tony,” you chuckled and left back to your table.

The rest of the night T’Challa only looked at you with a confused look and when dinner was finally over he didn’t want to walk beside you. You felt your phone vibrating on your bag and looked at the message you had just received.

“I like your style, and I might wanna have that drink with you. Where are you staying? Besides, I’m gonna need an answer to that whole ask Tony thing, I’m not happy.”

About an hour later, and after you had dismissed your team, you welcomed T’Challa inside your room. Of course you had it all planned; you were wearing your best undergarments and a black, silk robe on top, with your hair loose and messy over your shoulders and what remained of your perfectly done makeup. Thankfully, he was still wearing the black suit form earlier and you couldn’t be any more happy.

Though there was alcohol in your mini bar, T’Challa arrived with a concealed bottle of champagne in his hands. He kissed your cheek and you walked him to the balcony. Vienna at night had the most beautiful view, and your tiny space allowed you to take in a lot from it.

“You’ve got yourself a nice view,” he nodded to himself. “Do you always stay here?”

“Yes,” you hummed. “This is actually my room of choice every time I’m here. If not, I try to stay in a hotel near this area with a similar view. I don’t think it can get any better than this,” you chuckled. “I see you brought something to share, I’m impressed.”

“I looked it up and it had good reviews. A special drink to have with a special lady,” he poured the liquid in the glasses and handed you one. “Speaking of, why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

“Everything I said back then was true. My dad died when I was very young… It was a car accident,” you bit your bottom lip gently. “We were not ready for that—I mean, one’s never ready for a parent’s death, especially when you’re a kid. You think your parents are gonna be forever, but life slaps you across the face and tells you ‘not today’,” you chuckled, “and speaking of—what happened to your father? I wasn’t here when the accords were signed—it wasn’t really up to me to sign that.”

“It was a big misunderstanding, and I’m not proud of the actions that came afterwards—” he swallowed heavily—“though it helped me find the truth in the end, I acted on rage and revenge, which is exactly what my father taught me not to, but I guess he didn’t really practiced what he preached. Does anyone anyway?” He pondered to himself.

“It wasn’t Bucky who did it—though everyone said so, even the media,” you acknowledged, since you knew some parts of the story. “Especially the media,” you frowned to yourself. “So, how did you realize that?”

“I don’t know—I’m not sure. It just clicked and that was it,” he shrugged and took a sip from his drink. “Since when do you know Stark?”

“Some years ago—he found me through SHIELD, or I found him—we kinda just found each other, I guess,” you explained. “When it was still a thing, I used to work undercover—vigilante style, really,” you chuckled. “SHIELD found me through Natasha, and I got in as an asset to the agency. Then, when it came down, the Avengers kept in touch with me and that’s basically the whole story,” you shrugged. “I’ve slowed down on the asset thing a little bit, since I have other things to attend, but my close ones know what I do and that this is just another source of… good-doing for me. My career in politics is gonna end one day,” you shook your head lightly, but it was almost as if you were speaking to yourself, “and by then I hope to still do this—going out on missions and fighting bad guys. It’s kinda fun, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he chuckled as he got rid of his tie.

That first bottle went away too quickly, and then the others started pouring on the glasses. You were a hot mess, while T’Challa was just hot. The way he laughed, the way he spoke, and even the way he held your hand every once in a while was overwhelming you and your dizzy mind. At one point during the night, you got cold; your robe wasn’t thick enough to cover and shield you, and T’Challa decided to take you in his arms, sit you on his lap and wrap himself around you.

You hummed in delight at the warmth of his body as you fidgeted to get some more. He placed a hand on the back of your neck and gently massage your scalp with his fingers; you were melting in his arms, and it only made you want him more. You placed a soft kiss on his cheek and pulled away from him just enough for you to look at each other.

You timidly leaned forward to press your lips against his, and the kiss was completely different from the one in the bathroom. You didn’t have that craving for his touch, and he didn’t seem to have it either, but you could feel how you desired him more than anything. You wanted that man and you wouldn’t rest until you had him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and he tightened the embrace he had around you with his free arm. There was something strange about him—he could be menacing in the field, yet so graceful; and in other occasions, such as this one, he was laid back, casual, and loving.

“I’m getting a bit cold,” you whispered to his ear. “Do you wanna take this inside?”

He didn’t answer with words, but he did lift you bridal style to get you inside. Then, he gently placed on you top of the bed and hovered upon you. You let your hands rest on both sides of your head as you kissed him, and his hands went straight to intertwine with yours. His lips parted from yours and kissed their way down your jaw and your neck, tugging at your sensitive skin and sucking on it. You moaned in delight and arched your body towards him.

He pulled away from you to get rid of his vest, and since you were in way less clothing than he was, you followed him by loosening the tie of your robe, revealing a black bustier with matching panties. He cocked a surprised eyebrow and pursed his lips.

“Anyone would say you prepared for this,” he pointed out as he gently slid the robe down your arms, freeing you from the garment.

“I don’t really care,” you huffed, grabbing his obviously expensive shirt and ripping it apart. “Oh,” you bit your bottom lip, “my bad,” you innocently apologized looking straight at him as you roamed his chest with your hands. There were some marks that were evidently made with a bladed weapon.

You took the time the feel them thoroughly and hold his intense gaze. He placed both hands on your neck, and thumbed at the skin around it until he found a well hidden scar. There was something about scars, yours and others’; they were the proof of a dangerous life and survival. You loved yours, and you cherished them more than anything in this world. They were a part of you, and they helped you tell your story to others. Life wasn’t easy, and the marks on your body were the evidence. You couldn’t hold that thought for too long, and when he rolled his hips against yours, a groan escaped from your needy lips. The rest of his clothes didn’t take much longer to be spread on the floor.

Your nakedness had never bothered you before—your body was always something very natural and you were taught that you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. But what you felt with T’Challa was a sense of self-consciousness that you couldn’t shake away. Not many people had seen you like that, and because of it, you couldn’t help but to try to cover yourself with your own hands, but his hands gently took yours and he leaned in to kiss you so sweetly that you could’ve sworn you were melting with him.

One of his hands let you go and started roaming down your chest. He caressed your breasts tenderly, pinching your nipples ever so softly and eliciting soft moans from you. You realized he didn’t stay there for long when a timid hand stroked your inner thigh. He pulled apart from you only to move his whole body down yours.

He kissed his way until your inner thighs, as if he was giving you the time to still say no and calling it for the night, but when you wrapped your legs around his shoulders, he understood that he had the green light for whatever he had in mind. You propped yourself on your elbows and seductively looked at him.

“I’m yours for the taking tonight, _my king,_ ” you slurred his title and tugged at your bottom lip.

He licked his lips lasciviously as he leaned forward in between your thighs. His hot breath against you made your breath hitch, and his featherlike fingers elicited the softest moans from your lips. But all the softness ended up fast, and T’Challa had his lips pressed right against your throbbing fold.

Your arms were shaking and you couldn’t stay up anymore, but he was working wonders with you and you weren’t even mad for not being able to see him anymore. He was hungry for you, and you were willing to give yourself to him without a fight. You were enjoying every second of this.

You came not long after he toyed you with his fingers, and your lungs fought to get some air inside. A wide smile spread across your lips and as you were still coming down from your high, T’Challa took your hands and made you sit on his lap.

You wrapped your arms around him as he found your entrance. You were more than ready for it; you’d been wanting it from earlier and the bathroom episode was definitely insufficient to leave you happy. He filled you slowly and you groaned in pleasure.

You rested your head on the crook of his neck as he pulled you down towards him. You rolled your hips to accompany the up-and-down movement and that was when hell got lose. His pace speeded up and you were very vocal about how much you were enjoying it. You took one of his hands and placed it around your neck. He put just a little of pressure on his grip and you let out a deep moan.

“God—didn’t take you for one of those rough women,” he panted; the grip on your heck had switched to one on your jaw to make you look at him.

“You know what else I like?” You breathed. “Hair pulling and spanking.”

He tugged at your hair, making you expose your neck to him. He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave marks the next morning as you rolled your hips. You were not moaning anymore, you were screaming, and as you orgasm was near, you could feel your head feeling light.

“I’m gonna—shit—” your breath hitched—“fuck damn…”

The fire that pooled on your abdomen suddenly spread to every inch of your body. You were burning and you were loving every second of it. You were on top of the world and no one could bring you down. T’Challa had his forehead pressed against your chin, and while he tried to catch his breath, he kissed your neck gently. You panted and chuckled, all at the same time. You were still a bit dizzy and not in control of yourself.

You were clung around T’Challa like a spider-monkey, caressing his hair and kissing the top of his forehead since it was at reach. He was stroking your back along your spine and now that his breath had gone back to normal, you could hear how he softly sighed.

“I thought you were one of those vanilla dudes,” you chuckled. “Boy, was I wrong,” you chuckled together and left a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Do you wanna stay here?” You asked. “I don’t think I wanna be alone tonight,” you tugged at your bottom lip, and thank god he couldn’t see you, because you could feel how your cheeks turned into a bright shade of pink.

“I’m glad to accept your offering,” he grabbed your chin, softer this time, and gently kissed your lips. You two untangled from each other and as you headed to the bathroom, he asked. “I don’t have anything to wear though,” he said almost teasingly.

“Check my drawers, I’m sure there’s a shirt that’ll fit you,” you replied carelessly. “What?” You frowned. “I like sleeping comfortably,” you chuckled as you headed to the bathroom.

You washed your face, untangled your hair and looked at your naked self in the wide mirror. You couldn’t help but to laugh at what had just happened. You were not that kind of person, or at least, you liked to think so. It wasn’t your thing to meet up with strangers and do it, even when you’d had opportunities in the past—but Tony Stark didn’t count as a stranger back then. You shook your head and came out to the bedroom again.

You searched in your drawers for another wide shirt and slid it down your body. T’Challa was already lying in bed, waiting patiently for you. He tapped the space next to him and you gladly jumped in. You cuddled towards him and sighed heavily. He wrapped his arms around your torso and kissed the top of your head; you two stayed in silence for a while, and when you feared he’d fallen asleep, you interrupted the silence.

“I saw a scar you had on your chest earlier… it was… around here,” you pointed over the fabric the spot. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“I had a disagreement with a member of my family,” he shortly said. “It was over the throne. His father was my father’s brother, and he was sentenced to live in exile—I found that when Erik came out of the blue to Wakanda.”

“Are you on good terms now?” You timidly asked. “You and Erik…”

“I believe so,” T’Challa hesitated. “Or that’s what I like to tell myself. We parted ways—he…,” he swallowed hard and shook his head. “I don’t usually talk about him—Erik’s a difficult thing for me, and I haven’t dealt with that yet. Not properly.”

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t stress about it,” he assured you and kissed the top of your head. “Now that we’re on it, you have one on the back of your neck… here,” he thumbed it, “yes here. What happened?”

“This one?” You grazed it with your fingers and found T’Challa’s. “I don’t remember, but it must’ve hurt like hell,” you laughed. “Oh no, wait—I think this was James. It was one of the first times Natasha told me she’d found him. This was top secret,” you chuckled again. “Anyway, he had me by the neck, and when I was freeing myself, he had his knife pointing there, so it wasn’t obvious that he’d find the chance to kill me. He didn’t though, because Natasha was getting into his brain,” you shrugged, “and that brings us here.”

He moved his hand from your neck to the line of your jaw and cupped your face in one of his hands. You hummed in delight at the soft feeling. “Tonight’s been amazing, (Y/N). I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

“I’ve had a great time too, your majesty,” you smiled sleepily and yawned. “But I’m a little bit tired, and the sun is coming through the window…” you yawned again and stretched yourself. “I think it’s about time we get some sleep.”

“Alright,” he moved your head upwards and leaned in for one last kiss.

You rolled off on your side, turning your back to him, and T’Challa sneaked closer to you and placed an arm on your waist, keeping well secured in his embrace; an embrace you didn’t feel like leaving. At least, not for that night.


End file.
